Possessor
by oldsawbones
Summary: What happens when Maura admits her fantasy to Jane.


**Hey guys! This just popped into my head. Let me know what you think. I have a few more ideas for a slow burn, but this will mostly be Rizzles right off the bat.**

Jane's arm seemed to throb with her heat beat. She turned the key in her police cruiser and huffed as the engine went silent. Rizzoli had rumble tumbled catching a pep earlier in the afternoon. She had a few stray cuts along her forearm, not to mention, those same cuts had ruined one of her favorite white collared blouses.

As she opened the door and swung her legs onto the concrete, Jane's body cracked between her shoulders. It was like these outbursts of adrenaline and physical contact were wearing on Jane like never before. Back in the day, she could jump up and bring a murdering son of a bitch with her, but the closer she got to forty, the more she crawled instead of pounced.

She made her way up the stairs and to her apartment. All she needed was a beer and a couch... and Maura.

"Fuckin' douche," Jane muttered as she unlocked the door.

Maura had a date with the poster child of perfection. Some dentist with feathering grey hair and a car salesman like persona. In all actuality, it was this Doctor Vern she pictured when she took down the suspect.

Jane stepped across the threshold and kicked the door closed with the heel of her boot. Her eyes scanned across the screen of her phone before tossing it onto the couch cushion. No texts. No cases.

Rizzoli tossed her blazer onto the coffee table. She unhooked her gun belt and placed it to the side. The fridge held every ounce of her attention. Long slender fingers, searched the top shelf for the closest beer. After popping the cap somewhere in the general vicinity of the sink, Jane plopped down on the couch and turned on the television.

"Vern," Jane's voice held a hint of steam. Whose name's Vern anyway?

But that sarcastic question wasn't exactly what her heart was asking.

Somewhere around beer number four, Jane dozed off.

* * *

Jane stirred two hours later. Her hand was warm against the silkiest fabric, she'd ever touched in her life. Long fingers slid up and down before her eyes opened. Scents of lavender and Sauvignon... Jane's palm flattened. The moment her scar made contact, Rizzoli jerked her hand away.

"Maura!" Jane lurched forward to get up and Maura gently pressed her hand against Jane's chest.

"Go back to sleep. Rest." Maura's voice was against Jane's ear. The honey blonde had swooped her crossed legs over Jane's lap as if to block her from getting up.

Jane's entire body was telling her to get up and apologize for fondling Maura's bare leg, but the beers won. The brunette let her hands fall onto Maura's legs as she slumped into another cat nap.

Who knew how long it had been, but Jane started to wake. Her ears picked up Maura's stifled laughter and it brought a smile to the detective's face.

"Hey," she husked with a yawn. "What time is it?"

Maura paused the television, "Almost ten."

As Jane's mind decided to finally work, she remembered, "how was your date?"

"Mmm," Maura said with a shrug. "Let's just say, if your hand had been his, you'd be wearing my wine."

"Ha!HA!" Jane mused with a slight blush forming on her cheeks. "So you were just in here laughing about it?"

Maura sipped her wine and shook her head, "No. This show is Strange Sex on The Learning Channel. I was laughing at this terribly tacky sex furniture."

Jane realized Maura had indulged in more than one glass of wine. Her voice gave it away within half a sentence.

"Oh, Jane, this one man had a fetish for women's sneakers."

"You sure this comes on TLC?"

Maura shot a smirk in Jane's direction as she pressed play to resume the show. The honey blonde would leave the couch to refill her wine glass and Jane took that as the perfect opportunity to admire how Maura's curves fit into her dress.

"You want some pajamas, Poindexter?"

"Sure, Rollie-Pollie."

Jane got off the couch with a new step in her stride. All of her previous aches and pains could've been accounted to moping, but that was the farthest thing from her mind. She quickly grabbed Maura's nightgown and robe out of the dresser drawer that was reserved for the good doctor.

The dark purple fabric was silk, and Jane had to regain her composure as she realized it held nothing compared to Maura's thigh. She returned to the couch and held out the pajamas.

"Jane, what's your craziest fantasy?" Maura's eyes were wide with excitement. Her cheeks were also flushed with wine.

Rizzoli almost choked. Every bit of alcohol was flushed from her system in that second.

Maura jumped up and collected her nightgown with a cock of her head.

"Well... I mean, I dunno. What's yours?"

Maura scurried off to the bedroom to change clothes. When she emerged, Jane's breath caught in her throat. Chocolate eyes immediately drew themselves to the diamond pendant necklace nestled in Maura's cleavage.

"I asked you first, Jane," Maura returned to the couch and patted the seat beside her.

"No, really. I mean, I never thought about it before," Jane lied. To change the subject, Jane pestered, "Is it something crazy? With toys, a ceiling fan, and seven dumbbells?"

Maura shook her head and then stopped, "A third of that could be true."

Jane took her seat on the couch, but as soon as she invaded the space she'd been invited too, Maura rose from her seat.

"Please tell me it's not the dumbbells?"

Maura finished off the bottle and tossed it into the recycling bin, " Never mind, Jane. It's silly." The doctor was unsettled and it didn't take Jane long to figure it out.

"Not to your best friend, it's not. Heck, unicycles, sex dolls! Throw it on me, Maur." Now, it was more than a conversation, Jane needed to know.

Maura laughed and shook her head, "You know I can't lie. Let's drop it."

Jane flung her arms to her sides, "You always wanna talk about sex and now I do and you won't! Come on!" Jane's eyes, scanned Maura and she opened her mouth in shock, "You're thinking of a lie! I can see it! You're getting hives."

Maura balled her fist, and shook one angrily, "Damn hives," she muttered. She turned up her wine glass and offered, "We forget it as soon as I say it?"

"Yeah, I swear," Jane pleaded.

"Fine. You know how when men hit on me, you always tell them to beat off?"

"Beat it, Maura. Don't say beat off," Jane snickered.

"Oh, well you always—wait, why can't I say beat off?"

"Forget beat off, Maur, just tell me."

Maura took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You always fight off these horrible advances and step in to protect me no matter what. It—I can't, Jane. I just—"

"Maura!" Jane stormed forward.

"See! That's why I even have this fantasy! You and your aggression!" Maura's face softened, "You love being my protector, Jane. Don't deny it. I love it too, but for all your aggression, you've never taken it out on me! Sure, it's been for me and to protect me..."

"I don't get it."

"Jane, instead of being my protector. I like to fantasize about you being my possessor. To finally stop a man from my advances and take me! Take me to where it ruins me from all other suitors! It's not like you don't stop them... When I beg you to stop, you shake your head and keep going! Don't you see, everyone gets this big bad detective attitude and it... it made me want it in a completely different way. Come into the house and bend me over the counter. To just take me, Jane. Roughly, passionately, aggressively. That's my fantasy."

Jane's mouth hung open. She couldn't think of a single word to say.


End file.
